


The Outcome Justifies The Deeds

by Orcbait (EmpressofMankind)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Family Drama, Family Shenanigans, Gen, House Lannister, Lannisport, Shotgun Wedding, Tywin being Tywin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressofMankind/pseuds/Orcbait
Summary: There were better ways to go about proposing this betrothal but then Tywin wouldn’t be Tywin.
Relationships: Tywin Lannister/Loren Lannister
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56
Collections: A Saga of Bears & Lions





	The Outcome Justifies The Deeds

**Author's Note:**

> Set ca. 289 AC, a few short months after the Greyjoy Rebellion, and thus 10 years before the start of the books & 'the Lion in Winter'.

Lord Gerald Lannister of Lannisport was quick to rise when Ser Elbrand, commander of his household guards, entered, with the tall figure of Lord Tywin Lannister following close behind. Gerald frowned. The patriarch of House Lannister wore an asymmetrically cut, burgundy gambeson and a riding cloak the dark taupe of gathering storm clouds. The cloak’s leather-reinforced shoulders were covered with a fine pelt the same shade of pale ochre as his sideburns. His finely worked gorget with its rearing, gilded lions, was the only concession to his identity. The Lord of Casterly Rock had dressed down for the occasion and was unaccompanied by household guards of his own. He’d come here alone. Gerald’s frown creased deeper with concern. He had the unquiet suspicion he wasn’t going to like what Lord Tywin had to say.

“Gerald.” Tywin inclined his head minimally, by way of a greeting.

Gerald made a gesture towards one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk. “Tywin. Please, sit. Elbrand, you may leave us.”

“My Lords.” Elbrand gave a curt bow before turning and leaving his Lord’s study, the other household guards in tow.

Gerald took care to sit down a fraction later than Tywin did. By all counts, they were cousins and peers, both of them Lords by lineage and holdings. However, like every time he found himself before Tywin, his stomach lurched as he stared at the socio-political chasm between them which felt as insurmountable as the cliffs of Casterly Rock itself.

Tywin’s hand rested on the gilded pommel of his longsword, the precious metal winking between his fingers. “There is a matter of some import that I wish to discuss with you.”

“If it concerns the shipping revenues-.”

“No. It concerns your daughter.”

Gerald's gaze snapped up. His daughter? 

Tywin’s face was inscrutable. 

A few years previous, Gerald’s eldest daughter, Loren, had wed Maron Greyjoy, second son to Lord Balon Greyjoy. The match had been made in an attempt to secure peace on the high seas as well as resolve that unfortunate matter with the Stark. Not five months ago, Lord Balon had tried to secede from the Iron Throne. Loren had fled the Iron Isles and returned home, unharmed, praise the gods. When word of her return reached Gerald, he’d implored his cousin they find his eldest daughter. They had found her soon enough but instead of coming home, she’d insisted she take part in the further repression of the rebellion. Tywin had humoured her. Had she drained that leniency already? If she’d crossed him they were all in for a very sorry time. 

Gerald sighed as he rested his hands on his desk and laced his fingers. "If Loren has given offence, I sincerely apologise on her behalf."

Tywin pursed his lips. “I have a betrothal proposal for her, now that her previous marriage is null.”

Gerald frowned, his fingers lacing tighter. She had offended him, then. They needed - he, needed - to rebuild Lannisport. The option to wed Loren to one of the merchant Houses and thereby secure their allegiance was vital in assuring the port city would return to its former prominence. There was no way Tywin hadn’t deduced this for himself. “I don't understand. Jaime is in the Kingsguard.”

Tywin shook his head and Gerald thought there was a hint of amusement ghosting his hawkish features. It was terrible to behold. “No, not to Jaime.”

Gerald feared what he may say next, that he might suggest wedding her to his dwarf son.

“To myself.”

Gerald stared at him, his fingers unlacing. “Beg your pardon?”

Tywin pulled his head back, like a horse about to balk the reigns. “Did I stutter?”

Gerald frowned, swallowed, and frowned deeper still. Tywin was their liege lord and already kin. Loren’s marriage to him would net them nothing they didn’t already have. Worse, it would lose them their one assured means to binding a prominent ally their support to them. Gerald tried to keep the disbelief from his voice. "You, wish to wed Loren, yourself?"

The thin line of Tywin’s lips managed to become thinner still. "Yes."

How. Why. Gerald had so many questions, none of which he dared ask. Ever since Lady Joanna’s death, the Lord of Casterly Rock hadn’t so much as feigned an interest in other women. In fact, he’d become so infamous for his blunt refusals that the ‘perils of lion hunting’ had practically become an euphemism. The ladies of prominent Houses had kept up trying in spite of it for an admirable amount of years. Until Tywin had resigned as Hand and retreated from court and that was that. What had changed?

“You cannot be serious,” Gerald said, even though Tywin seemed as serious as the grey plague. He’d laced his fingers again, kneading them against each other. He had to dissuade him. Somehow.

Tywin pursed his lips. “I can assure you, I am.”

Gerald shook his head. “It pains me to say it but Loren is unsuitable. She’s wilful and disobedient-.”

Tywin leaned back in his seat, rubbing his fingertips past his chin and lips. "And pregnant."

"What?!" Gerald exclaimed as he rose, his fists hitting the sturdy wood of his desk. "Those damnable Greyjoys!"

Tywin regarded him calmly, amusement lingering in his pale green eyes. It curled one corner of his thin lips just so. "No. Not by that Greyjoy wastrel." 

Gerald frowned, opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He sat back down and laced his fingers once more. He had realised Loren must be pregnant with Tywin’s child. He looked up at him. “How dare you.”

Tywin crooked an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I am here to arrange our betrothal, aren't I?"

Gerald clenched his jaws, his fingers tightening. "You cannot do this."

Tywin’s second eyebrow rose to join the first. “I can and I will.”

Gerald squared his shoulders. "No."

"No?" Tywin repeated, his lingering amusement snuffed like a candle. His hand dropped from the pommel to the hilt of his longsword as he fixed Gerald in place with his gaze.

Gerald lifted his chin and forcefully resisted the urge to cower. "Arrangements are already under way for her to wed Willas Tyrell, son of Lord Mace Tyrell.”

Tywin’s wry expression made it clear he rather pitied the crippled young man already. The Tyrell boy was soft and a decade Loren’s junior, she’d wipe the floor of Highgarden with him. Regardless, she was a woman grown and had made her decision concerning this matter which so happened to align with his own. “The Tyrells won’t wed their precious heir to a daughter pregnant with a bastard."

Gerald bristled. "Your bastard."

Tywin pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing with displeasure. "I am certain I have no idea as to what you’re insinuating."

It was then that Gerald realised that Tywin would do as he pleased. His visit here was a formality, a civil pretence to the proper way of things. He hadn’t come here to ask him anything, he had come here to hand him his decision. Its only courtesy was that he told him himself instead of making him hear it in the street. If it was true, and Loren was indeed pregnant, he’d come out looking the benevolent Lord too, taking her to wife.

Tywin picked up Gerald’s quill and pulled a parchment from the neat stack on the corner of the desk. "I will make it easy for you, Gerald. If you agree, I will wed your daughter, she'll become Lady of Casterly Rock and her son will be my heir. If you don't, this conversation will have never happened, I'll have never seen her and the boy will be born a Greyjoy bastard. No House will want her, she'll never marry and your trade importance will fade into insignificance."

Gerald ground his teeth, his laced fingers clenching into a joined fist. “You fathered a bastard on her.”

“I’d rather the boy be my son, don’t you?” Tywin dipped the quill into the ink jar and held it out to Gerald. "Shall we draw up the betrothal, then?"


End file.
